


Your Heart Is Waiting

by RobinLorin



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/F, Lesbians, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinLorin/pseuds/RobinLorin
Summary: "A fic about Anne and her start-up business, and coming home to Constance and the baby, and asking Constance whether she needs help with her Etsy shop and them being thoroughly, blissfully domestic."





	Your Heart Is Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [beysdameron](http://beysdameron.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Anne comes home and her hands are aching. She has three burns on her fingers – down from the five last week, the shiny patches of which are just scabbing over. Making her own candles is fun, but it isn’t easy. And with her recent expansion into other beeswax products, she’s working overtime in the corner shop she’s renting in the center of their small city’s downtown area. 

She scoops up the baby as soon as she’s kicked off her shoes (sneakers, not heels, now that she spends all day standing) and padded into the kitchen. Louis squeaks and clutches at Anne’s hair as she dips him. Anne plants a kiss on his chubby neck, burying her nose in his baby-clean smell. 

Constance turns from the stove, her smile making her radiant. She has her “Sew What?” apron on. “How was your day, dear?” 

“Just fine, darling. Sold stocks. Bought bonds. Brought home the vegan bacon.” Anne kisses Constance hello; caught between them, Louis pats at Constance’s chest. Anne agrees. 

Constance sets down her wooden spoon and takes Louis from Anne. “Let me see your hands.” 

Anne sighs and holds out her hands for inspection. The old burns and cuts don’t bother her anymore; she’s far beyond worrying about keeping her skin lily-white and unmarred. She carries the signs of her work proudly. But she wouldn’t be married to Constance if she didn’t love how Constance worried over her. 

“Put some salve on those,” Constance orders. 

Anne pulls the jar of salve from a drawer and dabs it on the burns. “How was Louis today?” 

“A perfect angel.” Constance waves Louis’ arm and coos, “Yes, you were good for mommy, weren’t you? You sold a quilt all by yourself, didn’t you?” 

“Our son is an entrepreneur now?” 

“He takes after his mothers.” Constance has to attend to the tofu stir-fry for a moment, but she explains that a past customer got in touch with Constance’s Etsy shop and asked for a custom order. 

“She liked the ‘Asshole’ pillow so much, she wanted a ‘Fuck You’ quilt. We Skyped to cover the details, and she fell in love with our little prince here, didn’t she? Yes she did, oh yes she did! With those big blue eyes and your perfect little curls.” Constance kisses Louis’ forehead and then, when Anne comes over for her share, accepts a kiss from Anne. 

“We should celebrate,” Anne says breathlessly after a few moments of ignoring Louis smacking both of their chins.

“Already way ahead of you. Get the bowls down?” Constance scoops the stir-fry into bowls while Anne pours glasses of wine from the bottle that’s been left open on the counter to breathe. Constance leads Anne about six feet away to the laptop on the kitchen table, where she has Netflix Kids paused on Thomas the Tank Engine. 

Louis giggles and claps when the show starts up. Anne settles him in her lap and nudges back at Constance’s toes, which seem to be intent on a rousing game of footsie tonight. Constance looks at her innocently and says, “Eat your stir-fry.” 

 


End file.
